


Solatium

by winstiel_28



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe- Normal Life, Anal Sex, Angst and Romance, Anorexia, Arguments, Boys Being Boys, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cigarettes, Death, Depression, Don't read if this is triggering, Emotional, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, High School, I Love You All, I hate myself, I'm Sorry, Kissing, Loss of Viriginty, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Drug Use, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pretending to be straight, Resolved Arguments, Rough Oral Sex, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, Smut, Spoilers, Triggers, Undecided Relationship(s), confused, they're all just sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:04:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winstiel_28/pseuds/winstiel_28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>'"I'm busy right now."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Oh cool, what're you doing?" He tried to soften the mood but the icy cold tone of Calum's voice was making it more than difficult.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I've got someone round." Calum replied.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Oh, who?" Michael couldn't help but feel disappointed.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Calum cleared his throat and Michael could hear somebody else muttering something to him on the other end of the line.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Luke." He said it so quietly that Michael wasn't even sure if he'd heard right or not.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Luke? Luke Hemmings?" What the fuck was Calum doing with that dick?!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Look, listen Michael. I gotta go." And then Calum hung up.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And he knew just by his few words that he was annoyed, he'd called him 'Michael', he never called him that.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Cal and Mikey were best friends, Calum and Michael just knew each other.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Shit..." Michael muttered to himself, biting down on the side of his mouth and throwing the phone back down on the table.'<i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Michael

Michael threw down his bag and glanced at the clock, it had broken again. The two hands were stuck in the exact same place they had been a few days before.

Sighing, he pulled the object from the wall and fiddled around with the back until he heard the familiar, continuous ticking noise and then put it back again.

Smiling at his work, he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a slice of cold pizza from the night before and devoured it in less than three bites.

The house was unusually quiet, most days he'd come home from school and find his dad in bed with some random woman he'd met that day at his work. He put it down to the fact that his father had come home drunk out of his mind the night before and was probably nursing a hangover in his bed.

Traipsing through to the living room, Michael switched on the telly and dropped himself down onto the sofa, it had been more than a long day.

He'd ended up getting into a petty argument with Calum over something that hadn't really mattered, and now he was more than regretting it. He'd seen the way his best friend's face had fallen when he'd started talking and now that was all he could think about.

Sometimes he ended up hating himself when he thought about all the shitty stuff he did and then regretted later on, he knew that he was a bad person but he just couldn't help it.

Calum had said something to purposefully annoy Michael, and like usual, the sixteen year old had taken it a step too far. And it had resulted in no more than the only person Michael truly liked not talking to him; and that was pretty fucking bad.

Shaking his head and reaching across the sofa towards the phone, Michael tapped in a few numbers and waited for it to ring, he knew for a fact that if Calum didn't answer, he was definitely pissed off with him. He spent all his time in his room and Michael knew from experience that whenever it rang, Calum always answered.

" _What_?" At first Michael had been glad that the other boy had answered, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I wanted to say sorry." He was half scared of what the boy might bring up next.

"I'm busy right now."

"Oh cool, what're you doing?" He tried to soften the mood but the icy cold tone of Calum's voice was making it more than difficult.

"I've got someone round." Calum replied.

" _Oh_ , who?" Michael couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Calum cleared his throat and Michael could hear somebody else muttering something to him on the other end of the line.

"Luke." He said it so quietly that Michael wasn't even sure if he'd heard right or not.

" _Luke_? Luke _Hemmings_?" What the fuck was Calum doing with _that_ dick?!

"Look, listen Michael. I gotta go." And then Calum hung up.

And he knew just by his few words that he was annoyed, he'd called him 'Michael', he never called him that.

Cal and Mikey were best friends, Calum and Michael just knew each other.

" _Shit_..." Michael muttered to himself, biting down on the side of his mouth and throwing the phone back down on the table.

After a few moments of doing absolutely nothing, he decided to go upstairs and sleep, he'd had a pretty bad day and he didn't want to stay up thinking about it; especially knowing the only person he cared about was with one of the worst people he knew.

 

On the way to his room, he found his father's door ajar and felt his heart stop. Last time this had happened his dad had overdosed, he didn't need this now. Although his dad might not have been the best at most things, Mikey loved him more than anything and if that had happened; he might as well just give up.

Opening the door, he was more scared than he'd ever been, and he knew it was stupid, his dad had been clean for over five months, but it didn't soften his fear anymore than he would have liked it to.

And he was half relieved to find the bed empty, but half worried to see his dad wasn't in the house.

Placed in the middle of the creased blue duvet that covered his father's double bed, was a small folded piece of paper.

 

_Mike,  
_

_I need a break. I've needed a break for a very long time. Ever since your mum left I've needed one. And looking after you is stressful, you demand so much.  
_

_Don't expect me back anytime soon, because it definitely won't be for a couple of months, and that's the earliest.  
_

_I've had enough of you telling me to stop drinking and to stop the drugs, it's my life and I can do what I want. You're just a kid, you don't understand anything important. I was going to leave you a little bit of money, but I don't have any and that's the point of me going away.  
_

_You're an alright kid, you know that right? So don't beat yourself up and say that it's your fault, because some of its over stuff too, not just you.  
_

_That Calum boy can come over whenever he wants.  
_

_Dad_

 

"Fuck!" Michael tore the paper into pieces, throwing his head back and swearing at the top of his lungs. " _Fuck fuck fuck_!"

He grabbed his hair and let himself sink to the floor, holding onto his head like it might fall off if he let go.

" _Fuck_." His voice cracked slightly as tears began to seep from his dark green eyes and run down his pale face.

He looked around the bedroom, he looked at the floor and then at the window, he then looked down the hallway towards his own bedroom and a thought crossed his mind.

"I can't do this anymore." He sighed and felt himself standing, but he was numb and it softened everything a little more. He didn't like the feeling, but at the same time it was welcoming.

And he wasn't even sure what he was doing, but soon he was standing in his bedroom, it was colder than he had remembered it being when he'd woken up that morning and had had no idea how his day was going to turn out.

Michael put two shaky hands to the buttons on his school shirt and began fumbling around with them, undoing them slowly, thinking over his plan and trying to convince himself to not do it, but he was too fucking weak to stop himself.

 

And then he was walking to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it just because of routine. He knew nobody would come in, but it felt wrong doing it when he knew somebody could be there and see him; he gotten so used to doing it behind a locked door.

He looked in the mirror but he couldn't really see himself, not anymore anyway. It wasn't like it was in the morning when he cleaned his teeth and wondered if he looked good enough to leave the house; no, now he saw nothing but a pathetic, weak idiot who couldn't do anything good for anyone, he was useless.

The funny thing was, he didn't even have to look at what he was doing, Michael could tell where the blades were from experience and knew how to reach for them without looking.  
That was the strange thing about it, he didn't like to look at the thing that inflicted the pain, but didn't mind running it across his own skin.

And he felt the cold metal in his hand, and it felt more like an old friend than something that he should be staying away from.

He moved it around the palm of his hand, let it slide across his skin, not hurting himself, just moving it.

He looked down at the white flesh of his forearm and then clenched his fist, watching the blue veins pop outwards and protrude his skin a little more than they had done before, making them just a bit more visible than they had been.

He liked to watch his veins move, it meant that he was alive, but at the same time it also meant that they would stay the same if he died. Unlike his heart, it would beat continuously until the day he died; then it would simply stop.

Michael took the small blade in a tight grip in his fingers and let his nostrils flare as he bit down on the insides of his mouth and placed it on an unmarked part of his forearm.

He pushed the blade down, moving it forwards slightly at the same time and felt that familiar quick searing pain as it sunk into his skin; but then nothing else but a release.

The heavy weight that had pushed itself down on his shoulders all day disappeared and Michael moved the blade more vigorously, watching as small, neat lines of crimson blood began to well up under the skin and slip out, lining his paper-white skin with small red swirls.

Mikey leant back against the tiled wall and sighed, the coldness of that combined with the irritated heat from his fresh cuts made him feel sleepy and he quickly washed the razor blade before hiding it once again and slowly walking into his bedroom.

He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do now that his dad was gone, even though he'd never been particularly good, at least he'd been someone Mikey could rely on; and now he wasn't there anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this part turned out so depressing because I was listening to The 1975- fallingforyou on repeat, I hope you guys like it though.  
> Each chapter is going to be from somebody else's point of view and about the things happening in their life at that point.  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated.  
> Thanks,  
> Happy reading! :)


	2. Luke

Luke put the fork down on the table and glanced up at his mum, she wasn't looking, he could work with this. If he could just manage to pick up the last bit of meat off of his plate and pass it to his dog under the table, he'd be good again for another night.

He knew that it wasn't altogether right, and deep down he knew he couldn't keep doing it forever; but Luke hadn't chosen to end up this way... It had just sort of happened.

He could remember a time when he was sort of a happy kid, it wasn't like he had had a shitty upbringing or something like that; in fact he'd been told numerous times that he was selfish because of what he did.

And to anybody that knew how he felt, they knew that that last statement was complete and utter bullshit. Luke couldn't help the way he'd turned out, he hadn't woken up one morning and decided that he was going to become anorexic, that wasn't how it worked.

 

"I'm going out mum!" He shouted up the stairs as he crossed the small space that joint the stairway to the front door and slipped on his shoes.

"Okay, be back before it's too dark though! Love you Lukey!" She shouted back down, Luke pulled on his jacket and slipped his keys into his pocket before taking up a can of diet coke and walking outside.

 

There weren't many places where fifteen year old Luke Hemmings felt completely at ease, in fact, there was only a small handful that made him felt better than everywhere else.

And there weren't many people that walked down past the edge of the pier and along the rocky beach towards a small cove he'd found as a child, that was where Luke spent most of his nights, being alone.

He'd only ever told one person about that place, in his eyes, that small little cove was his property, and it would always be.

"How's little Lu Hemmings?" Luke didn't even have to turn around.

" _Irwin_." Luke felt a small smile spread across his thin lips, it didn't quite reach his eyes but that was more than usual nowadays.

"What are you doing out at _this_ time?" Luke could hear the older boy trudging along the wet stone floor towards the small rock that he was placed on.

"I could ask you the same." Luke dug his elbow lightly into his friend's side and felt him laugh lowly.

"Yeah but, I think I asked _you_ first." Ashton looked over and smiled, showing a row of glinting white teeth.

"You _stink_ of alcohol." Luke stated.

"You look like a _twig_." Ashton fired back.

"Well then it's nothing new for either of us. We have one fucking messed _up_ friendship." He couldn't help but laugh, but it wasn't a particularly happy laugh, it was more a sign that he was still alive.

Ashton made a small noise then dug his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, along with a small green lighten with marker pen patterns drawn all over it from the seventeen year old's boredom.

He opened the packet and motioned it towards Luke, letting the younger boy pull one out and place it at the edge of his lips as Ashton flicked the lighter, watching the little orange flame dance around.

Luke inhaled and felt the weight of everything dissolve, it was a pretty good feeling. Ashton pulled out a bottle from his fraying blue hoodie and began to unscrew the lid, tipping the glass bottle back and letting the liquid splash into his mouth.

" _Stop_." Luke put his hands out and managed to pry the drink away from Ashton.

" _Eat_." Ashton must have been thinking of everything the two could have been arguing about and then put his hand into his other pocket and pulled out a bacon sandwich.

"No." Luke muttered, he held his breath, it stunk. He moved his eyes away from the food and he knew he was being stupid; but Luke found food his worst enemy, and in reality, it was.

"Then don't ask me to stop drinking, because I _can't_. Just as much as you can't eat this bacon sandwich." Ashton shrugged his shoulder as though it was the most reasonable thing he'd ever said and then picked up the bottle again, drinking the rest of the disgustingly cheap liquid and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Luke decided to leave after a while, he didn't like staying with Ashton when he got upset and wanted to drink, he didn't like seeing his face go paler, or his eyes become more and more bloodshot.

But at the same time, he knew that the same thing was happening to him, but he also knew there was no way to stop.

A can of diet coke meant that Luke would feel full, but wouldn't actually have to eat anything. He could just drink it quickly and then just let it sit there for a while; that was the good thing about it. He knew from past experience that diet coke could fill you up more than anything; so now it was the one thing he relied on.

Luke had planned on staying out all night, maybe having a walk around the place, just taking in the salty spray and the clear ocean air and just feeling light. But he'd seen some guys from school that didn't like him, thought he was weird because he didn't like to eat and because he usually spent his days alone.

So he had decided to go home.

 

Luke closed his bedroom door and sighed, throwing down his jacket and then pulling off his burgundy shirt, throwing it to the floor and shivering slightly at the sudden coldness.

He slowly walked over to the corner, feeling his toes squish down against the softness of his carpet, it felt warm and welcoming compared to his cold body.

"So fucking _ugly_..." He muttered to himself, glaring at his own reflection and gulping loudly. Because in the mirror, he saw no more than a boy so overweight that everybody in the street would turn and laugh, or worse, cry at him.

But no, in reality, Luke stood facing himself with more than a few bones protruding his very pale skin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry if anybody feels uncomfortable reading this fic, I just felt like each of the characters having their own secret problems would help the story along.  
> Thank you so much for the positive reaction already! I can't describe how nice it is to read your comments :)


	3. Calum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive reaction so far guys! It really makes me want to write more :)

Calum could remember ten years back as clear as day, but ask him to go further? Then you'd find the problem.

Because Calum could remember every fucking shitty thing that had happened to him over the last ten years. And they weren't memories he liked.

For the first six years of his life, Calum had been one of those annoyingly happy kids, right? But then his mum had married again.

Not that he'd ever want her to be sad and lonely and never meet someone ever again, no, that was fine.

But it just so happened that Uncle Steve (stepdad from _hell_ ) had skipped into their lives. The first time he'd met Steve the man had given him money and candy and stuff, he hadn't known it at the time but now it was clear the man had just done it to make him like him.

And for the first few months, Calum had still been as happy as he had been before his mum had met Steve; and he figures that things were finally looking up for her. But when he'd turned eight, well, this was when the real shitty stuff started.

And at first he didn't even notice it, but soon it had taken over his life, and not in a good way.

Calum had been left at home with an auntie whilst his mum and Steve had gone out for the night, he could remember sitting up and waiting for them to get back, excited at the fact he was allowed to stay up late.

Steve had parked up his truck and come inside, Calum had noticed that his mum wasn't there and on further inspection, found out she gone to spend the night at her parent's house. So that meant Calum would be home alone with Steve all night.

 

Calum shook at the memory and blinked a couple of times, trying to get his brain to make the nasty memories disappear, but it wasn't as easy as he would have liked it to be.

" _Fuck_..." He muttered quietly under his breath, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and letting himself flop back further on his bed so that his head began to slowly sink into the mountain of pillows.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Calum felt himself being pulled back once again until it actually felt like he was physically inside his memories.

 

_"Hey kiddo, your mum says that you can stay up late tonight!" Steve bent down so his eyes were level with Calum's, those icy cold irises making the hairs on the back of Calum's neck raise slightly._

_"Okay." Calum answered, a small smile dancing across his mouth as he turned back to the living room and ran to turn the telly on once again._

_Steve turned the other way and bit down on the inside of his mouth hard, nostrils flaring as he kicked off his shoes and then followed the eight year old boy into their living room._

_The night ran slowly, Calum flicked through so many channels on their small telly that he was pretty sure he'd been through all of them twice._

_And he fell asleep after a while, only to be woken up so horribly later that night._

_At first he figured he was dreaming, of course Steve would never do anything to hurt him or his mum, he just wasn't like that._

_But then he was knocked back into reality when he felt himself being shoved to the floor and a large foot smashing into his ribs._

_And eight year old Calum let out a high pitch scream and moved both of his hands down, clutching his fresh injury._

_"You little cunt..." Steve had hissed, his eyes so angry as he took Calum up by the collar and began to repeatedly smash his face against the wall._

 

"Calum! Dinner's ready!" He actually jumped, he'd been so wrapped up in his own memories that Calum had forgotten that he was actually sixteen years old and that most of the bad stuff had already happened to him.

He pulled on a grey hoodie and then opened his bedroom door, instantly catching the scent of whatever his mum had been cooking all night downstairs.

He could hear the low chuckling of Steve as he complimented his wife on the meal and then the happy little giggle that left his mum's mouth as a reply; it made him feel sick.

"Oh! _There_ he is!" His mother exclaimed cheerily as Calum traipsed down the hallway towards the dining room and pulled his chair out before sitting down opposite her.

He looked down at the plate of food in front of him and didn't feel remotely hungry, it was making matters worse to know that the monster who had ruined his life was sitting beside him and acting like nothing had ever happened, that he was a nice man and not someone that should be locked away in prison.

"Is it nice, Calum?" His mother asked as she smiled kindly at him through a mouthful as he took his first bite. He didn't answer straight away and damn, what a fucking _mistake_ that had been.

" _Answer_ your mother, Calum." Steve threw down his cutlery and moved his icy eyes so that they were locked with Calum's, at least here, in front of everybody, there was no way he could hurt him.

"No, it's _fine_ Steve, really."

"No Joy, the boy needs to learn some manners." Steve fired back, pulling his arm away from his wife who was trying to calm him down.

Calum couldn't help but scoff, Steve was really giving him advice on manners? It was almost funny.

"Get _out_." Steve had gone bright red and he was speaking so quietly, his voice shaking ever so slightly that Calum knew he was treading on water, if he pushed it any more he didn't want to think about what might happened.

And of course, he'd never put his mum or sister in danger. He would never be so selfish as to do something like that.

If it meant getting them out the way, he didn't mind taking all the shit Steve gave him every single night.

He didn't need telling twice, there was no point sticking around just to get the shit beaten out of him later, or maybe even worse, something he didn't like to talk about.

Calum had gotten used to everything. He constantly felt numb nowadays and that had become the norm. He walked out to the hallway and got his shoes, did the laces and then stormed outside, slamming the door shut behind him.


	4. Ashton

"That's ten dollars."

"I don't _have_ ten dollars."

"Then you can't have it."

"Look Carl, I'll pay you next week, I _promise_."

"Listen kid, I can't keep waiting for your empty promises to come true. You look like absolute _shit_ and I don't want to be the reason you end up _dead_ at the age of seventeen, okay?" The man tapped his fingers against the countertop and stared down at the boy in front of him.

"I'm not going to _die_. I just need this, _please_ man. I promise I'll pay you back." The desperate look in his eyes almost made the man change his mind and just give him the bottle and tell him to leave.

He sighed deeply and looked the teenager over for a second time, he had a black eye that was obviously old due to the yellow bruising and a thick cut just above his cheekbone; and to top all that off, he was dirty.

 

Ashton bit his lip and stared down at the bottle he'd put down to pay for, he slipped his hands in his pocket and fingered the few coins he had, this was shit. All he wanted was a drink, that's all he needed to get him through the rest of that day.

Sure his chest was getting worse and he was sure he should probably have an inhaler or something due to his shitty breathing problems, but a drink right now was his top priority.

"I can't sell this to you, I'm _sorry_." The man behind the counter shrugged and Ashton could see the genuine sympathy in his eyes but it didn't make him any less angry. "You look ill."

"Just fucking _leave_ it." Ashton hissed under his breath, turning and pushing a few magazine stands out of his way as he stormed to the door of the shop; ignoring the concerned calls of the owner telling him to see a doctor.

This was more than shit, this was _absolute_ shit.

He'd had enough of the way people dealt his drinking problem like he was going to die or something, it was fucking stupid.

He'd been coping with it for months already and was more than sure that he could probably do it for a little longer.

Turning the corner, Ash unzipped his dirty green satchel that was slowly falling apart and pulled out a bottle he'd been nursing earlier that morning. He watched as the few dregs splashed around at the bottom, the suspicious coloured liquid smashing against the side of the glass that kept it from spilling.

Unscrewing the lid, Ashton threw it to the ground and tipped the bottle back, keeping his whiskey coloured eyes open as he watched the liquid run slowly down the sides and pass his lips, melting on his tongue.

And fuck it was _heaven_ , it was a quick rush that knocked him away from the shitty reality of his life for a few seconds.

It was like an addict taking a shot, like a drowning man riding for air and feeling his lungs relax... Like an alcoholic drinking away his problems.


	5. Michael

The alarm sounded. Michael threw out his right arm and punched the clock until the repetitive sound had quietened down.

Nostrils flaring, he turned over in his bed and pulled his duvet over him a little more until he was tight and secure in a little cocoon he'd made for himself.

The paper-thin blue curtains that stood against the window gently blew out and in as the wind picked up slightly outside.

And then he remembered. That was the shitty thing about it, he'd forget the bad stuff and then he'd remember again. And it always felt ten times worse.

 

Michael slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple times, the sudden brightness of his bedroom made them ache and he rubbed them with the back of his hands.

He sat up slowly and looked around his bedroom, nothing had changed over night and everything looked the same as it had done a couple of days before, it wasn't like all of his stuff was going to disappear because his life had become even shittier than it already was.

 

Looking at his bedside table, Michael swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and picked up something that was so nice yet brought him almost to tears because of the memories it held.

The picture frame was cold against his warm hands, and it was uncomfortable and dug in to his palms. Michael stared down blankly at the image in front of him, he looked at the smile that was reaching his eyes in the photograph and it made him ache a little to know that he couldn't do that anymore.

Then he moved his eyes across to the other person in the picture, that bright smile and those warm, welcoming brown eyes were making Michael's eyes fill with unwanted tears. He ignored the pulsing sting in his forearms as he put the photo back down and picked up his phone.

 

Tapping in the numbers he'd put in the night before, Michael waited while it dialled and then wanted one thing, for Calum to answer.

"Michael, could you _please_ just leave me alone for a little while." There was a slight hint of desperation in Calum's voice and it made the tears spill against Michael's cheeks as he realised he was the reason he was like that.

"But I'm _sorry_." And he instantly wanted to hit himself or something, because he was going to pretend that he wasn't bothered; but then his voice had cracked and it was more than obvious that he'd been crying.

" _Michael_?" Calum's tone had changed from annoyed to worried in the space of thirty seconds.

"Calum." Michael bit down on his lip and scrunched his eyes close, sobbing silently as he thought about the events that had occurred the day before, his dad, their argument, everything.

" _Shit_ man, what's up?"

"Can you just, _please_ come round or something?" It would have been pretty cruel of Calum to ignore Michael's pleas when he sounded so desperate, and Michael didn't know what he would have done if he'd have said no.

"I'm on my way." He muttered in reply, Calum's voice was lined with concern and Michael knew that he could be at his house in the space of just under ten minutes.

 

Padding down the stairs barefoot, Michael let his toes curl against the soft carpet and then looked at himself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs and realised how shitty and pale he looked. He also saw the dried blood on his arm and yanked down the sleeve of his school jumper that he'd ended up sleeping in the night before and hadn't bothered taking off.

Walking into the kitchen, Michael glanced up at the clock once again and realised it had stopped for the third time.

" _Fuck_ it." He hissed under his breath, there was no point in him keeping making it work when all it would do was break again.

He poured himself a glass of water and then sat down at the small table in the middle of the room, he felt cold. Not just cold like when someone's left the door open or something, more like when you're ill and you keep shivering but you know there's no reason for you to be doing it.

He waited in the silence for Calum to turn up, Michael knew that he wouldn't even knock on the door, just burst through and head straight to the kitchen where Michael usually sat when he was sad.

 

"Michael?" Calum's voice was loud in the silent house and he kicked off his muddy shoes and then walked quickly though the hallway towards the kitchen where he knew from experience, that Michael would be sitting.

Turning the corner, he stepped inside and stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of his best friend.

"What's happened?" His voice was soft and he tried to sound welcoming, Michael's eyes were so red and bloodshot that it looked like it pained him to blink, his face was paper-white and it looked as though he hadn't had a good nights sleep in ages.

The older boy stood up from his seat and slowly walked towards his best friend, his bottom lip quivering like a five year old.

And soon he was sobbing again, and he flung his arms around Calum and sealed his eyes shut, sobbing so loudly that Calum felt himself getting worked up.

He hated seeing his best friend cry, it hurt him just as much as it hurt Michael. And he didn't even know the reason why he was upset, but he knew his best friend, and that meant something really shitty must have happened; because Michael never cried.


End file.
